Читать книгу Westy Martin on the Mississippi - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 6

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By chance, Westy happened in Cole’s Hardware Store that next evening after dinner. Trick Trainor and his friends were there and Norris stood behind the counter with his father. One could feel the tense atmosphere.

“You’re just in time to referee this argument,” Trick Trainor laughed loudly. “Norrie’s threatening to strike unless he gets tonight off.”

Norris frowned at Trainor’s tactlessness and Mr. Cole scowled angrily. “Let him strike then,” he said, without glancing at his son. “’Tain’t any of your business if he does or not, Trainor.”

Trick merely smiled and walked toward the back of the store with that indolent swagger he affected. He stood for a few seconds and watched Brower who was busy at the open safe, then turned and came back. Westy wondered why he didn’t have sense enough to take his friends and leave.

Norris looked at Westy and smiled. “Would you want to stay and help Pop for an hour, Wes?” he asked. “The worst of the rush will be over then—I’m leaving in ten minutes.”

Faint patches of color showed in Mr. Cole’s pinched looking features. “I don’t want none of your friend’s help, Norrie,” he said harshly. “If you want to go—go, but don’t think you can smooth things over by asking him to stay. Ain’t it bad enough that he’s got you dead set on goin’ down the Mississippi on some fool adventure?”

Westy opened his lips to protest but Mr. Cole would have none of it. “Don’t say you didn’t tell him, ’cause you did. Maybe you didn’t mean no harm but it’s made him dissatisfied with his home and even working for his own father. He’d sooner work like them niggers on the levees than do nice, easy respectable chores in his father’s store,” he said, breathlessly.

Norris reddened perceptibly and without a word walked from behind the counter and out of the store. Westy felt decidedly uncomfortable and did not know whether or not to stay. It was evident that Trainor and his friends were not perturbed by that little family scene for they retreated to one end of the counter and were soon engrossed in their usual flippant conversation.

Mr. Cole went about the store silently and after a few moments approached Westy. “Anyhow, I can rely on you more than that fool bunch,” he said, with a jerk of his thumb toward Trainor and his friends. “I’m going to slip out to the lunch room and get a bite before we get busy so I’ll just let you sit here and watch ’till Brower gets through with the safe. I’m not asking you to wait on anybody, just call Brower if someone comes in.” He coughed as if he had already regretted asking that small favor and reached back of the counter for his worn-looking derby hat.

He had only been gone a minute when a customer came in and Brower was called. Trainor’s friends came forward also, spoke to Westy for a few moments while Trick paced around the store restlessly, then left. Mr. Cole hurried in a few minutes afterward.

“Too many in there,” he explained to Westy curtly. “They’re going to bring me in some sandwiches so you needn’t wait.” He bowed distantly.

Westy moved toward the door gladly and Trainor joined him. “Guess I’ll blow too,” he said casually. “Have a date before I go to the movies.”

They walked to the corner together but Westy found nothing to say. The scene between Norris and his father had thoroughly depressed him and he felt that Trainor was in some way responsible for it.

“I s’pose you’re making for home and mother, huh?” queried Trainor, laughingly, as Westy made a move to cross the street.

“I suppose I am,” answered Westy drily. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Trainor returned with his eyes averted. “I’m going up this way to keep my date. S’long—see you in church.” He swaggered away up Bond Street without looking to right or left.

Westy watched him for a swift second then went straight home and to bed. Midnight found him still awake wide-eyed and beset with strange premonitions. They were vague, yet haunting enough to make him restless and sleepless. “Aw, I’m crazy,” he said half-aloud as the big clock in the hall struck the half hour. “Why should I worry myself to death over what Norrie’s going to do or Trick either, for that matter?”

But even as he asked himself that question he knew. He knew that in some vague way he was concerned about Norris, he always had been. “And like a fool I’ve been gassing about the Mississippi to him and set him off,” he rambled on. “Gosh, there was something queer about that store tonight—Norrie sure didn’t care what his father said. Anyhow, he’s not a baby, but I wish he’d cut Trick out.”

Thought after thought flashed through his mind until sleep came to him and then his dreams were wild and terrifying. He awoke at eight o’clock next morning at the insistent ringing of the telephone and jumped out of bed as his mother answered.

“Yes,” her voice echoed up the stairway and into his room. There was something in that word that aroused Westy’s interest and he tiptoed silently out into the hall and leaned his arms upon the broad balustrade.

“Why, no, I don’t know, Mrs. Trainor,” Mrs. Martin continued. “I’m awfully sorry.” There was a pause. “You’re right, they’re no longer babies.” Another pause. “I hope so. Goodbye.”

“What’s up?” asked Mr. Martin in the midst of his breakfast.

“Trick hasn’t been home all night and the queer part of it is, neither has Norris Cole,” Mrs. Martin answered, replacing the receiver. “Mrs. Trainor said that Trick had passed the remark yesterday that Westy told them they could get work on the Mississippi levees and that he and Norris would think it over. I suppose they’re going to try and ride freights there. Well, they won’t get very far.”

“I wish Westy’d keep his adventurous ideas to himself,” said Mr. Martin from the recesses of the breakfast nook beyond the kitchen. “Mr. Cole and Mr. Trainor won’t thank him for that.”

“Well, Mrs. Trainor said herself that they were no longer babies,” Mrs. Martin said as she hurried back to the kitchen. “She says if they want to leave nice, comfortable homes for a rough and tumble life like that, why it’s up to them. They’ve spoiled Trick terribly though, it’s a wonder he isn’t worse. But I can’t understand Norris.”

“I can,” Mr. Martin called out. “Old Cole’s been hard with that boy—I’ve often wondered if he’d ever break away. It’s all right if he doesn’t encounter worse difficulties away from home. There’s worse things in the world than skinflint fathers.”

Westy could hear no more after that. His mother had probably joined his father in the breakfast nook and all the sound that reached him was the monotonous hum of their distant voices speaking in ordinary conversational tones. Shrugging his shoulders, he went back to his room and dressed.

“I guess I knew that’s what was going to happen—I guess I knew it last night,” he said, pulling on his shoes. “Anyway, Norrie would have gone whether I came or not. I haven’t anything to do with it.”

He reached the breakfast nook just as his father was getting ready to leave the house in pursuit of the Sunday paper. “Well, I heard all you were talking about,” he announced, frankly. “I kind of felt last night that it was going to happen. Norrie’s been talking about it ever since I’ve been home but I thought it was just talk. I didn’t think he’d have the nerve to do it.”

Mr. Martin stopped at the threshold. “It will be a good experience for him if he keeps the scout laws in mind, Westy,” he said kindly. “What I don’t quite like, is his going with Trainor. There’s something about that boy that makes me suspicious. Maybe it’s just an idea, but....”

“Norrie said there’s no harm in him,” Westy spoke up stoutly. “He said he’s just a lot of talk.”

“I’ve heard of talk that did a lot of harm, son,” smiled Mr. Martin. “I’m going down Main Street now and I’ll stop at Cole’s and hear what’s to be heard.” He closed the door lightly and was gone.